


one more time, shrewder

by two_nine_eighteen



Series: The Animal Chronicles [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alabasta Arc, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Crocodile & Doflamingo are rivals, Crocodile too, Crocodile-centric, Donquixote Doflamingo Being an Asshole, Enemies, Gen, Introspection, Marineford Arc, New World (One Piece), Post-Marineford, Post-Time Skip, Rivalry, Sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_nine_eighteen/pseuds/two_nine_eighteen
Summary: Part oneFor one moment he couldn’t feel the heavy golden hook on his left hand. It felt odd and familiar at the same time. An old sensation, a flash of nostalgia, a glance back when he still had his left hand, an intact face and a head full of dreams.Once there were times he really thought he could fly.-Part two.”…Doflamingo.”, he said slowly, voice deep due to all the years of smoking, “Stop bothering me. Go annoy someone else.”“Mean, Croco- man. Share your interest with me. See it as a little bonding between allies, yeah?”Crocodile took another draw of his cigar. “This is not an alliance.”, he simply said, before returning his attention to the display case. Doflamingo grinned.Playing hard to get through, are we? Well, the joke’s on you. Playing games is my thing.
Relationships: Crocodile & Donquixote Doflamingo
Series: The Animal Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695982
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. erosion

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write something about Crocodile.  
> I was so intrigued by the hints of his background and especially of his reaction towards dreams, even more so post Impel Down, where he has this banger line, saying that his 'wounds' have healed and that he's ready to tackle the 'good, old New World' again. Also the burst of emotion towards Whitebeard.  
> It really made me curious about the kind of mentality he had after Alabasta and what he's up to now in the New World.  
> It's just really fun to come up with future plans for him!

When his back hit the brick wall behind him and he flew right through it, crashing through the heavy, old walls as if they had not stood there for centuries or millennia, he knew it was over. There was no way he could get up and fight after he landed, he knew he would come crashing down with the broken pieces of the wall he was violently pushed through.

For one moment he flew and his entire body became weightless. His normally strictly slicked back hair whirled around his head and its tips blurred his field of vision. So did the droplets of blood leaving his face due to the lack of gravity. He couldn’t feel the heavy coat on his shoulders, heard it fluttering around his feet, all in motion not acting as his fabric shield against the outside world anymore. 

For one moment he couldn’t feel the heavy golden hook on his left hand. It felt odd and familiar at the same time. An old sensation, a flash of nostalgia, a glance back when he still had his left hand, an intact face and a head full of dreams. Once there were times he really thought he could fly.

_To say it was a rainy day in Loguetown would be underestimating the storm that was coming up. It was as if the sea curled in excitement to draw all the new, vibrant, eccentric souls of dreamers inside. Only the strongest dreamers, only the ones whose heads could reach beyond the clouds of rain were high enough to stay afloat. The currents of the new era drew thousands of ships into the demon that was the sea, hiding underneath the cloak of history-fabricated romanticism._

_Crocodile fell for the seas call as well. The first time he heard it was right after Rogers head hit the scaffold. This moment the world was frozen. All he could hear, feel, smell and see was water. The static noise of the rain, the rumbling of the ocean behind. The earthy smell mixed with a tang that only salty seawater could create. The droplets of rain running across his face blurred his vision slightly and exterminated the heat from the cigar he was smoking. Usually, he tried to avoid rain at all costs, as it was more than a mere nuisance to him, and so were the seas. In a way, water had always prevented him from fully pursuing in anything as he had never bothered to overcome this weakness. Why should he if he could just avoid it by finding shelter? Why expose himself openly to the world just to follow some vague vision of greatness? Survival always had been and always should be man’s greatest ambition. And he believed this, he always had , fully so, until a fateful day in Loguetown cut the head of a fateful man, whose words and consequences ensnared him and left all sorts of cracks in his beliefs._

_In this tiny moment of silence, where he allowed himself to feel the sea, truly experienced it for the first time  
He could’ve sworn the sea called out to him._

_«Don’t **you** dream ?»_

_All his doubts where washed away in an instant. If freedom tasted like the rain did that day, it was fully worth pursuing and it was delicious._

He long lost his naive hopes and abandoned idealistic outlooks years ago. Decades even. The sea proved to be too strong for him and he proved to be too weak to resist its dangers. The new world finally ripped the romantic picture of paradise off the seas surface and the demon beneath showed its deathly, unpredictable claws.  
He felt gravity settle in.The pain from all the punches that the straw-hat threw at him flared up. His lungs released every last bit of air and his consciousness started to slip. His body came crashing down, and so did all his efforts from the past sixteen years, all his efforts to erase his big failure as a youthful idiot. His first big failure, apparently.  
The second time he failed, he was just glad that he blacked out before he hit the ground. No need to hear another crash in his life.  
-  
When he regained consciousness, he was already shackled up in sea stone cuffs. He was sitting in the back of a Marine transport cart based on Alabastas transport systems. Multiple guards were following the escort on the back of camels. His face and chest hurt like hell but it seemed like they cleaned off the blood on his face. _How considerate._ The young marine lady next to him noticed him moving and flinched slightly, before reporting into the Den Den Mushi in her hand. She followed every movement of his warily through a pair of thick glasses.  
«T-The Shichibukai has awakened, Smoker-san, he wears the Seastone and should not be a threat as of right now.»  
«Good», answered said Marine, «How long until you reach the port?»  
«Ten minutes, Sir!»  
Crocodile remained silent. What did a man condemned to hell have to say anyway?  
-  
Arriving at the port, the Marine officer called Smoker took over and guided him rather aggravated to the prisoners ship. The first thing he noticed when got out the transport vehicle was the rain. He didn’t realize it before, being lost in his own thoughts during the escort. The drops were heavy and once they hit his face they splattered out and ran down his face in streams. It hadn’t rained in Alabasta for years, He had not allowed it to. He had controlled it, controlled his weakness with an iron fist (or a golden hook, to put it more fittingly). He had controlled it to completely undermine the country, to exert his power and to make others fear him. He had controlled the rain to make others believe that someone as strong as him didn’t need to go scampering from island to island like the plunderers and dream-blinded idiots that called themselves pirates. He had controlled the rain from preventing himself from ever hearing the waters voice again, not knowing what he would do if it were to ever call out to him again. He had controlled the rain to prove to himself that he wasn’t _that_ weak. So he stopped the rain and hoped his failures would shrivel up the same way the country would. 

Crocodile came to a halt and turned his face towards the sky. The sun wasn’t shining in the desert anymore, the sky was covered in heavy, grey clouds. Out on the sea a storm was brewing and the waves clashed heavy on to the shore. It was Loguetown all over again. _How ironic._  
The waters itself were remaining deafeningly silent.

_Freedom sure has lost its flavours._

«The hell are you standing around for, Pirate scum?! Get over here, I don’t have all day waiting for your royal ass to lament the shit you’ve done and thankfully failed at.»  
Smoker turned around, to angrily glare at him. The man seemed on edge and weirdly frustrated for someone who was about to chauffeur a government traitor to the Marine Base.  
Crocodile lowered his gaze again to blankly stare at Smokers agitated expression. The man had, mirroring his own habit, cigars in his mouth albeit two of them. It was not like he would get his desired effects out of them anyways, the rain was rendering them useless and soaked. Out of anger, he seemed to have bitten down on them a little too hard and dent his teeth marks into them Crocodile frowned a little. _What a waste._  
Smoker seemed to mistake his expression for protest. Face twitching angrily, he grabbed one of the cuff chains with his gloved hands pulling him violently with him. «What?!», he barked, «Don’t test my fucking patience, scum. Not today.»

Normally he wouldn’t let anyone treat him so disrespectfully but the situation he was in right now was anything but normal. In fact, he actually didn’t care at all. He didn’t resist, and kept quiet. There was no actual point in resisting, except for making everyone, especially Smoker angrier than they already were and dragging his departure from Alabasta. He had no intentions to stay any longer than necessary, really. Alabasta had lost all its worth for him, and was about to become another shameful place in his memories. The only things he’d probably miss from here were the bananawani he had had to leave behind and the desert itself. He learned the hard way that not even the environment perfectly tailored for him could make him invincible. The rain falling on the sandy streets were fate’s way of laughing at his delusion. 

They made it aboard the ship. Crocodile was carelessly pushed inside amongst others that had been arrested after the entire showdown. There were a lot. Soldiers traitorous to their own homeland, criminals and thieves that had been taking advantage of Crocodiles reign and possibly some of the Billions or Millions of Baroque Works. The man was stared at when he got shoved inside the prison cell within the ship and the murmuring ceased for fearful looks and glances in his direction. Crocodile ignored them. He was too tired to deal with this. After he sat down as far away as possible from everyone else, he apathetically let his gaze wander around the cell, without actually paying attention to the other prisoners. He just knew out of experience that he looked somewhat intimidating and cold whenever he had a neutral expression and that it would prevent the others from even attempting to speak to him.

_«What a pissed attitude you have!», Doflamingo had cackled during one of the few Warlord meetings where he actually bothered to show up, «Are you always like this or did someone shit into your coffee?»_

Crocodile furrowed his brows a little in disgust. Granted, there were more than just a lot of things he really didn’t want to think about right now, but Doflamingo? Really?  
Crocodile rubbed his forehead, as if it helped to just banish any more exhausting thoughts of his.

_I need nicotine._

At least the other prisoners were definitely going to leave him alone.  
-  
As for Baroque Works, the organization in and itself had not actually mattered to him that much. It had really only functioned as his main source of income, to fuel his other plans. Ironically enough, Baroque Works also had had the satisfying side effect of preventing more useless dreamers to enter the grand line. It crushed their useless hopes and their useless ambitions and their wishful thinking in an early death. Which was a much more merciful escape from admitting failure, than having to keep living with it. Crocodile could never shake of the slight satisfied shudder whenever he got a chance to see the desert themed graveyards of Whiskey Peak. It felt like some sort of twisted justice and he had been the one unleashing it on them from the shadows.

_Punishment to those that dared challenging the sea as weak as they were._

Deep down he knew that his broken concept of justice was nothing more than a veil, barely covering the bitterness from his ever-present past. He however found comfort in his thinking that as long as the World Government and the Marine existed, he wasn’t the only one having a distorted sense of honour and justice. 

The people of his agency, the Millions, the Billions had been nothing more but tools to him. Even the Unluckies and the officer agents always remained meaningless to him. He could only vaguely recall their faces. The only one that had actually managed a lasting impression had been Agent Mr.1. The man had been quiet, discreet, capable and had had the same work ethic as Crocodile himself. Taking a job as a job and doing everything possible until it was done. An easy man to work with. If he’d cared more about the other people he had employed, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. More in his favor. But he’d been damned if he’d had actually found people who seemed trustworthy. Sea and land were both inhabited by snakes after all. 

Hell, he had not even remotely trusted the Vice President. Nico Robin was a cunning woman, he knew that the moment he saw her. Useful, sure, but ready to go behind his back if the window of opportunity would open itself to her. Not that he’d blame her for taking opportunities. He would’ve done the same. To him it was just further strengthening his belief that trust in others was only for people that were too weak to trust their own abilities . Therefore he’d simply used her abilities until they weren’t needed anymore. What he could do on his own, he’d do alone. Whatever would become of her was simply none of his business. As big as the world seemed to be most of the time, unnecessary feelings just cramped the space that could be used for practical things. 

_Practical things? Like that insanely practical plan fittingly named Operation **Utopia?**_

Crocodile suppressed an annoyed grunt. Thoughts, that he’d avoided beforehand by simply busying himself with his grand operation, were flooding in. They were trapping him, forming the psychological cage to accompany his physical imprisonment. He’d always known, deep down, that his goal of taking over military forces, being capable of destroying islands and taking a hold of an ancient _myth_ called Pluton was nothing more than the plans of a petty, spiteful _boy_ that still held a grudge against the sea and the people that love it like he used to. His time stopped eighteen years ago, after a devastating defeat by the hands of some nowadays old man (his pride didn’t allow him to properly credit him, not even in his thoughts). Two years later, Operation Utopia started as a way for him to build another facade to hide his burning wounds behind. 

_Honestly? It hadn’t changed anything._

The boat set in motion. The seas were wild and the waves pushed arrhythmically from every direction, making Crocodiles orientation unclear. As long as they’d arrive somewhat alive at their destination, he had no problem with losing his sense of direction at all. He knew where he was going anyways. And it was not like he didn’t know what feeling lost was like. If the past sixteen years were any indication. He couldn’t think of a better place to go to right now, anyways. Locked in a place where time had no meaning was just about right for a man whose time stood still.

What really bothered him that the sea was pushing him around _again_. Mocking him _again_ , both by hammering loudly against fore and aft of the boat and by refusing him to hear its voice. It was irritating on his part and on part of the sea. He had had enough of the sea. He had had enough of all the promises that were made beyond the horizon, to never be found or reached in any way. He did not actually want to hear the waters again to rebuild his drive to get out on the sea, but still. He used to hear it, if only for a brief time. It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did. He didn’t even know what it was nor did he ever find out why it happened in the first place.

_So why does it feel like the heaviest loss of today?_

The sea truly was a ferocious beast of its own. 

A quiet, humourless laugh escaped his lips  
-  
Upon arriving, not a single soft breeze stirred the ocean surface. Blue skies, no clouds. Surprisingly cool sunlight flooded the surface of the gigantic prison. A strange feeling of contempt flooded through Crocodile as he calmly eyed the peaceful building.

_Heaven._

Impel downs heavy gates of Justice opened his way out of hell.


	2. sedimentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he’d used the past two years to prepare, waiting patiently for his opportunity, luring his prey into false security before hunting it down. 
> 
> _Because that’s what crocodiles do._

#### Impel Down

The exact moment where his interest in the outside world was piqued for the first time in months was when the old geezers name was dropped. Impel Down was certainly the last place he’d expected to find any kind of Yonkou connection. Especially not the old mans name, the fossil who’d rather break the entire construction into pieces before even remotely thinking about giving up on his freedom and his family.

Sure, the news of some mad pirate causing chaos and breakouts in various Levels of hell even in the lower floors had spread quite quickly. Many of the other prisoners had become restless and awfully hopeful as soon as the possibility of escape was in reach. He could hear excited breaths, nervous shuffling and the clinkering of shackles. To him it was just painfully annoying. He’d really enjoyed his quiet time down here.

But then the bunch of lunatics had arrived, _too late at that_ , to get the desired prisoner out of his cell. They just barely missed him, whoever they wanted to get. It was honestly just amusing. They came all the way down by violently breaking through hell, probably came multiple times close to death just to find out that Magellan was about to choke them with poisoned gas. Or tried to. Instead of just ending it quickly, they ultimately blocked their only way out somehow to prevent the gas from spreading, locking themselves down here in the process. _Real professionals._

Then the old bastards name was dropped, and suddenly the outside world was more present to him than it had been the past nineteen years. He started listening.

It seemed like one of his self-proclaimed sons had been captured and scheduled for execution. Must’ve been quite an important one too, as the Marines really wanted that head specifically of the shoulders it belonged to. Probably one of the fleet commanders. Oh well.  
He couldn’t care less about the guy. It was the old man that made his blood boil. In a way, seeing them fail rescuing him was even more satisfying. It served the old geezer right, seeing his own _family_ getting shortened by a head, for once. At least the Marines were doing a clean job most of the time. Couldn’t be said of the old man himself. He would know. All too well.

He grimly pushed the memories aside.

“If that’s where he goes, that’s were I’ll go too! Marineford!”

Crocodile looked up in surprise. He knew that unbearably determined voice, that childish stubbornness and that shadowy stance that clearly screamed ‘I won’t accept ‘impossible’ as an answer!’. He’d made his acquaintance with _him_ in such a way that he’d never forget any of it. In a way the little pest was as persistent as the memories he’d forced him to make. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin although there was nothing really amusing happening. Force of habit, probably.

Of course it was the Strawhat-brat. The kid had been completely nuts then and the unhealthy amount of times he’d gotten knocked down didn’t do too much to fix that rubber brain of his.  
_Marineford, huh?_

He didn’t have to think about it too long to quickly puzzle together all the information to get the full picture of what was about to go down in a few hours. A Yonkou commander about to be executed in the worlds biggest Marine Base? A commander from the one crew where he knew that their Captain called himself their father that loved every single son like they were the only one? All the Vice-Admirals and Admirals attending an execution as if it were one of their top-secret, luxurious grand meetings? Something was brewing and it was about to burn everyone getting too close to the fire. They even summoned the _Warlords_ , which was ridiculous given how absolutely untrustworthy all of them were. He’d proudly point to himself as an example for that.

Both sides were preparing and summoning together forces to get what they wanted. It was a giant childish game of _cops and robbers_ with both sides wanting to win without giving a second thought about the consequences. It was predestined to go down in utter chaos, killing more of the innocent than the actual wirepullers behind the scenes, both marines and pirates alike. It were two nearly indestructible forces trying to tear each other down and devour the other whole. It was going to be a full blown war, again. _About time._

He had nothing to fight for in this war. He could fight against the Marine but it wasn’t his responsibility as he hardly had anything to do with the rising hostility on the surface since the past months. It really wasn’t his fight to give his life for. And he wasn’t planning on giving his life to anyone soon. That would be irrational and beyond stupid and he and the Straw-hat kid did not share many similarities at all.

“…If you want to get out of here…then release me from my bonds. I can open a great hole in the ceiling of this room.”

He laughed.

“How about it, Straw-Hat?”

_The old man’s head was going to be **his** to take. _

-

He wasn’t going to this alone, though. That had been another mistake of his and it had cost him way too much. He’d thought that trusting anyone would only be a display of weakness. A vulnerable point that everyone ready to take him down would be going for. Having comrades, having a crew whose members relied on one another was more a curse than a blessing to him. The New World had shown him that promises were claims too big for humans to make. There was simply no way one could guarantee to be successful in whatever they challenged the world to. It really was daring of a puny living being, trying to fool fate like that. All the dreamers that were sure to shape their own destiny would wake up dead. And the ones they left behind were living in a nightmare littered with familiar corpses. Trusting in others was not worth the pain it brought with it.

_We’ll make it back here, Captain! Five days, we’ll be there, we promise._

For a moment he closed his eyes, as he held the cell keys in his right hand. Pushed back the memories that were ever so present, so vivid that he couldn’t tell if they’d happened yesterday or twenty years ago. He had to focus on another experience he’d made. One that begrudgingly forced him to admit that his former mindset wasn’t as flawless as he thought it had been. For all the pain that Alabasta had caused him, he wasn’t too stupid to realize or too stubborn to repeat his mistakes. He would need assistance of someone if he wanted to get further. It wasn’t exactly trust that he bestowed upon the person he had in mind, but he knew the person would fit his plans and his character well. Someone that was capable of following orders as well as standing up to threats and danger.

“I’m thinking of heading out of this place…but I could do with a little _backup_. How about it? Will you accompany me?

...Mr.1.”

He knew his real name was Daz Bones. But referring to him with the deck name he’d been given at Baroque Works made it clear that this was a cooperation with hierarchy and not a rescue out of valued friendship. It also created necessary distance from his ally to keep their work ethic the same as it used to be.

“If it’s you asking…I see no reason why I should refuse. I was beginning to tire of the place anyway.”

Crocodile grinned and took a deep inhale of his cigar. He felt elated, but he put it on the flash of nicotine rushing through his system.

_Off to a good start._

-

#### Marineford

Marineford was the chaos he’d expected it to be. Bodies were dropping left and right, some burned, some sliced, pummelled, squashed to death, some frozen, petrified and whatever else the devils had in store for them. Nothing was safe in this cesspool of death.

It did not faze him. If he’d attended the war two decades earlier, then maybe, _maybe_ the scenery, smell and feeling of death, anger and despair would have thoroughly shaken him to the core. He noticed the pure terror of the marine soldiers when they realized that they were nothing more but fodder for the monsters to keep them occupied and sated. They were crying for their loved ones while dying and the sounds of shotguns and cannonballs drowned out their voices so no one would hear their suffering. No one dared to turn back. Not when Admiral Akainu would spot every single coward and take them out himself for being traitors and therefore a shame to the Marine. With all the monsters attending this battle it could truly be said that this war was inhumane. Crocodile knew that he wasn’t an exception to this rule. He’d seen his fair share of death, gruesome ones at that. He had his own ambitions in this war and he’d kill every single nuisance who’d dare to get in his way. He drowned out the voices of the dying and rushed for Whitebeards head.  
-  
It didn’t go the way he wanted it to. He was very well aware that Whitebeards entire fleet was present and ready to fight everyone to death that wanted to lay their finger on their ‘Pops’. He was aware that, as a former Warlord, his head was also quite the target for others that bore a grudge against him or were just out for the money and fame. Especially the other Warlords, on the order of the Marines were not leaving him out of their eyes. And just the sheer mass of soldiers and pirates fighting was annoyingly hard to push through. He knew that getting the old man’s head wouldn’t be easy at all.

What he didn’t expect, or what simply seemed to have slipped his mind the _past twenty years_ was the fact that Whitebeard had gotten _old._ Seeing him getting fully stabbed through by a member of his own beloved family just made no sense. Not for him. Not for the man that had taken out entire other families and groups on the sea before. It was ridiculous. He saw himself, struggling to even get a single hit onto the man that seemed to have eyes on his back as well. He saw his own former crew falling apart by a fist that shouldn’t be allowed to hold this much power. He’d seen the destruction this man could cause, just by uttering words alone.

But he also saw Whitebeard here in Marineford, not involving himself to strongly in the battle. Not moving as fast as he knew he could. Something was so, so wrong with this. Crocodile clenched his right fist angrily. This was _not_ the man he’d fought back then. This was _not_ the man that took out his crew as if it were a bunch of mayflies whose time was about to end. This was _not_ the man whose head he wanted to take. Crocodiles anger rose, boiling in his chest and he’d no way of holding it back in anymore. Not after this disappointment daring to cross his eyesight after years of loathing the man that had wounded him more than every single scar that was visible on his body. _This is pathetic._

**“You are pathetic, Whitebeard! You were not this weak when you defeated _me!”_**

The silent glances in his direction from the other monsters surrounding him proved his point. He had said what everyone was fearing to be true. He gritted his teeth. He had to take another course of action.

-

The solution was simple, really. In a battle between Marine and pirates he’d join the lesser evil. The World Government would have to shove his corpse into a uniform to make him one of them. And it was hard to not get drawn in by the utter dedication of the Straw-hat brat to go save his (apparent) older brother. How this family constellation came to be, be damned. It was remarkable that the Straw-hat was getting assistance from people he’d never thought would ever work together. He had no idea how he was doing this, but he wasn’t immune to it either. He’d worked in cooperation with that ridiculous tranny Ivankov - granted, they were blackmailing him, so it was no option to refuse right then and there. But he’d also cooperated with Jinbe, another man with whom he had a more than rocky past. And the brat generally brought peoples fighting spirit up, purely with the unwreckable determination of his actions. As much as it irked him, he had to admit that the kid had the aura of someone who fate granted a big future. The momentum he had was the most unpredictable force in the entire war.

So naturally, when the blades were coming down to slice through Ace’ neck and Sengokus eyes gleamed with the shine of victory he took it upon himself to wipe the two marines and Sengokus hope of early victory right of the scaffold.

The dirty look Sengoku gave him was a victory of its own.

Snap.

His head went flying.

Sadly, his sweet moment of victory got interrupted in the most discourteous way. Fitting, as the one having the need to insert himself was probably the most uncivil man he’d ever met. Crocodile groaned internally. Doflamingo, that cocky bastard couldn’t let his long spidery fingers of the glowing herd it seemed.

“Oi, Oi, you croc bastard…! You reject _my_ proposal to team up with _Whitebeard_ instead?” The tall mans grin widened. “You’re making me jealous, y’know?”

As always the guy was obnoxiously ignorant towards the situation. Crocodile knew that Doflamingo was very well aware of why he chose to fight against the World Government. Crocodile also knew that he would do the same if he wouldn’t be so ridiculously favoured and privileged by the organization. For whatever reason, the damn Flamingo got all the excuses and he had the Gorosei behind his back. Crocodile, as a man that had connections with the Underground too, knew for a fact that the other had some dirty deeds going on as well. Big things. Things that involved, according to rumours and small snippets of information, the Yonkou Kaido himself. A government archenemy. And yet, the guy toyed with the government, let the elders dance in his tone like the sadistic puppeteer he was. Another reason to go _against_ them.

What was the guy fighting for anyways, except to still his bloodlust? The government had called him in but knowing Doflamingo he could have flat out refused and it probably would have been tolerated within the blink of an eye. He had his kingdom under control and as much as Crocodile felt sorry for the citizens of Dressrosa to have this giant asshole as their king, he had to hand it over to the man in getting exactly what he himself tried to do in Alabasta. Not that he would ever tell the other man anything of this. The Flamingo bastard had more than enough self-esteem to make narcissists pale, if that absolutely tasteless abomination of a coat wasn’t clear enough to see that.

Within the blink of an eye they clashed, sending the surrounding marines flying backwards.

While fighting, Doflamingo obviously had not annoyed him enough already, as the taller man saw this as an opportunity for a _chat._

“So, Croco-man, tell me, what are you up to now? I doubt you’d let yourself get caught again…Mfufu!” Doflamingo initiated casually while swinging his left hand towards Crocodile in order to slice him in half. Crocodile ducked down to dodge the attack while lounging forward to get his sand blade through him. “That’s none of your damn business, Flamingo. Also, shut it.” Doflamingo laughed while using his string to jump back onto the shoulder of a terrified marine before kicking said marine out of his way. “Fufufufufu! You really have no filter, do you? One could think that those cigars of yours have shown you at least one thing!”  
Crocodile decided to ignore that terrible inuendo and took a step left when Doflamingo attempted to deliver a kick to his face with his long limbs. He then immediately went for his stretched out leg using his moisture-draining sand blade to cut through, but Doflamingo used the momentum he had to deliver a second kick with the other foot before catching himself on the ground with the help of some strings. Crocodile was able to block the second kick with his hook but the sheer force pushed the two a few meters apart.

“How mean, Croco-man.” Doflamingo grinned with a fake offended tone. “If someone’s concerned for your future it’s only natural ask back.”  
Crocodile went back into his fighting stance. “Huh?”  
“If you’re being so greedy about sharing your little plans, you could at least ask me what I’m up to!” Doflamingo stretched both his arms to the side, still grinning wildly, “ _I_ have nothing to hide, you know?”

_Liar._

Crocodile did not even a second believe anything he said. Beneath that horrid attire of his were more horrid secrets than feathers on that hideous coat. “Sablés!” He sent the taller man up flying in a violent whirl of sand and looked for a means to get out of the Flamingos way. But then he thought for a moment. It was probably not too bad at least having a hunch of what the Warlord was doing. He’d been imprisoned for the past few months, which meant that his access to information had been greatly limited. Knowing what others were up to could end up in a favourable situation. So instead of trying to fight his way back to the scaffold just yet he let some sand blades shoot through the ground to hit Doflamingo who was trying to land on the ground before him, having escaped his sandstorm unharmed. Time to test his knowledge of the younger Warlord a little.

“Nothing to hide, huh?”, Crocodile said disinterested, “Didn’t expect anything spectacular coming from you anyways.”

Doflamingo sliced through his sandblades, before landing in front of him, that unmovable grin of his tainted with the slightest bit of irritation. “Now you’re just being rude for the sake of it. Come on, Croco-man, stop with the poker face.”, Doflamingo lifted his hand, readying himself for another attack, “Aren’t you at least a little intrigued? Mfufufufu..! I know you are.” He hurled his strings towards Crocodile. The older man quickly dissolved into sand, rushing past the strings to manifest himself behind the Warlord. He knew what game Doflamingo was trying to play with him. As if the other man would give him any kind of valuable information on what he was up to. He was only trying to pique Crocodiles interest and the moment he showed it, he would lose the game. It was Doflamingos sadistic way of toying with others, always letting people get close to their goal before taking it out of their reach to let them suffer.

_Two can play that game._

He took a draw of his cigar, while Doflamingo turned around, ready to dodge an incoming counterattack. “You’re right.”, he said calmly while looking at the messy battleground surrounding them. Doflamingo halted, slight confusion in his grin. “I really am looking forward to see what was happening while I was gone. It’s just…”, he trailed off before suddenly striking out with his hook. The taller man dodged just in time before golden metal pierced his head. Instead of striking back however he waited for the other man to finish his sentence. Nothing. The older man didn’t bother to finish what he started. “…?” Doflamingo frowned. “Oi, old man. Stop being a coward and get on with it. You scared?” He grinned again. “Did the prison wardens not manhandle you enough?” He laughed. Crocodile did not let himself get provoked by the others attempt to get under his skin. He blocked another hit from Doflamingos fist and quickly ducked when the other swung his leg from the side to slam his shin into Crocodiles temple. Then he shot right up again to hand out a hook to the chin ( _no pun intended_ ). Doflamingo dodged by jumping up into the air – the guy was just too damn tall to hit- and tried to stomp at Crocodile mid-air. He damped the blow by quickly letting a sand wall break through the ground. Again it created some distance between the two. ”So?”, Doflamingo said, still grinning widely. Crocodile wasn’t fully sure but didn’t the other look slightly more…aggravated? He still didn’t elaborate on what he was going to say. “You know, I could just fucking force you to say it. _I could._ I’m the one being _merciful_ here”, he let out a short laugh, “Croco-Bastard.” Crocodile knew that this was his chance. He just had to _pull the right strings._

He sighed, blowing out smoke from his cigar. He put his hand through his hair, slightly exasperated. “See it’s exactly”, he loosely pointed towards him with his hook, “…this.” From the corner of his eye he could see Doflamingos grin change to a slight frown for a moment. “What?”

Crocodile sighed again, acting frustrated that the other didn’t understand, the same way as if it was incredibly tiring to try to explain something very simple to a child that just couldn’t grasp the concept.

“…whatever you were up to, it’s probably just so...obvious?”, he said, as if searching for the right words, “So _you._ ” Crocodile again readied himself to attack. “Excuse me?” The grin fell now fully off Doflamingos face. His expression changed into a confused sneer. He made no attempt to attack. Crocodile noticed a bunch of Marines on the side watching the two of them fight and talk at the same time in terror and awe. He then mustered Doflamingos face with a neutral expression and said with calm boredom tinting his voice: “The whole ‘lunatic schtick’ of yours gets old after a while, you know…”,he twisted his hand and began eroding the ground underneath the watching Marines, “…pulling this for years now, have you?” Then he swept a giant wave of sand right across the area Doflamingo was standing on, including the gaping Marines who screamed in terror and pain as they were buried under the mass.

-

Doflamingo narrowly avoided getting hit by jumping onto one of the soldiers that was unlucky enough to get caught in the huge dune, then used his string to pull himself away from the sand. Too risky to stay in enemy territory. Also he needed his answer before getting buried by sand.

“The hell are you implying, Croc Bastard?!” The guy sure had nerves of steel. If he was going to continue pulling vague answers out of his ass, he wouldn’t hold back anymore. He readied his stance to counterattack.

“Well, to put it shortly.”, Crocodile said suddenly, getting to the point, “ _You’re kind of predictable.”_

Doflamingo froze, dumbfounded. _…the fuck?_

“Finding out what you were up to is probably much more satisfying on my own.”, Crocodile continued, completely unfazed, “No hard feelings, yeah?”

Doflamingo, after understanding what the other just said, quickly regained his composure. This wasn’t going to end nice. What an absolute bastard! He could feel his veins getting more prominent as anger pumped blood faster through his system.

_I’m gonna take his head home and use it as a footstool._

The guys constant tired look had irritated since the first time they met in Loguetown, years ago. In addition, the reptile had had no sensors for any kind of danger. He’d noticed it again today when the old bastard had the guts to call Whitebeard pathetic in front of the entire crew. He knew the other was foul mouthed and he _tolerated_ it but he just had to step over the line here. He would not insult all the hard work he had to put into getting where he was today. This was _not_ happening.

Crocodile had turned away, notably disinterested in further involving himself in the fight and conversation. It seemed like the topic was through for him. He was about to go his way, simply bailing out of the fight and Doflamingo could in no way allow to let this happen.

“Oh no, you asshole, you’re not getting away like this.”, he didn’t hesitate to strike as fast as he could, ripping the ground apart with his strings in the process. “You think just because your ass got out of Impel Down with the _help of others_ ”, Doflamingo spat the words in disgust, “you can just go and insult me to my face?”

-

Crocodile knew an attack was coming up and quickly dispersed into sand. The ground broke underneath him, which he used to turn the rubble quicker into additional sand to control. He then used it to let multiple large sand spikes shoot out of the ground. Some other pirates and marines fighting got caught in the crossfire and collapsed on the battleground. This attack had been definitely more aggressive than the former ones Doflamingo had unleashed on him. _Gotta be careful._ As annoying the Warlord could be, it would also be a fatal mistake to underestimate him especially when angered. And he was. Quite a bit.

“Watch your filthy mouth, you arrogant bastard. You couldn’t even dream of half the aces I got up my sleeves! Doflamingo simply swept his sand spikes out of the way before charging at Crocodile. “I bet you’re so hard out of the loop that even the most accessible information slipped right past you.”

The next few minutes where a flurry of sand and string, ripping the battleground further apart. Punches and kicks were delivered with force and precision, heavy blows narrowly avoided or barely blocked by the other. The poor souls getting caught up in the battle were flung around and sliced up without realizing what happened to them before passing out. Crocodile attempted to render Doflamingo immobile by creating a large hole in the ground and let the sand pull him down. The other man reacted by grabbing a bunch of pirates with his string, pulling them into the hole and using the momentum to hurl himself out, landing on the opposite end of the large sand pool that the older man created. They eyed each other warily, not missing the slightest twitch of the other. Both of them were breathing heavier than before.

-

“I never denied that”, Crocodile suddenly answered Doflamingos former outburst, again calm and collected. Doflamingo narrowed his eyes hidden behind his glasses, his stance getting rigid. The older man dared to continue: “I just said that I’m not really interested in hearing anything _from you._ It’s not too hard to find out anything about you anyways.”, Crocodile shot Doflamingo a thoughtful look, “Dressrosa, was it?”

Doflamingos fingers twitched. The guy really didn’t know his place. It was frustratingly admirable just how stock full of arrogance the reptile seemed to be. He remembered what he’d told Crocodile before, when they’d clashed in this war. _“Mfufu! And here I thought, you have gotten more reasonable after getting out of hell.”_

He should’ve known better.

Doflamingo stood up straight to his full, impressive height and lifted his hands. His fingers were clawed, ready to attack. An icy smile spread across his face. He spoke up, letting his voice thunder across the battlefield, making many heads turn into his direction and backing away from him.

“Listen up, asshole. I have my fingers in much more than you could possibly think of. You’re underestimating my reach. You don’t know how much I am capable of playing my cards right. Every single one of them. You know why? The one that has the ultimate trump card for this kind of game is me. _It is me_. So hold your senile thoughts in, old man or I’ll end you right here, right now.”

He let his strings go loose.

-

Crocodile had to suppress a smirk.

___Got it._ _ _

He had all the information he needed.

“Sablés des deux!” Crocodile lifted both hand and hook to create two large sand hoses that where whirling around and into each other, creating a strong updraft with an abrasive force that could grate skin and flesh off the bones. It created utter chaos on their part of the battlefield, dozens of fighters were hurled into the air. Confused shouts turned into screams of pain and the sand got a slightly red tint. But most importantly, it created distance between him and the angered warlord. The strong wind currents would make it harder for Doflamingo to precisely aim and control his string and the dust in the air made it hard to make out where everyone was anyways. Crocodile transformed into sand and quickly slipped through the panicking pirates and marines, hurrying into a safe distance as far away from Doflamingo as possible. He’d tested his luck with the warlord quite a bit, and there was no need to push fate further. _He won the game._

-

The sandstorms subdued after a while.  
Doflamingo blinked, as the older man was nowhere to be seen on the battlefield surrounding him. He’d fled, had escaped his reach. But not out of cowardice, that much he could tell.

Suddenly, he felt like the one that had been played with all along.

__-_ _

__

The earth seldom payed respects when people died. It kept moving on and so did time, having endured more than any creature could ever imagine. It was common knowledge due to an an old saying that had been carried over the seas for centuries. _‘Pocket your seconds, note your paths ‘cause the earth don’t give a damn if you’re lost.’_

For one moment clocks all over the world lost their steady rhythm.

The moment Whitebeard died all the noise of violence and destruction subdued in an instant. No one dared to utter a single word when the worlds strongest soul left the warrior body it had belonged to. Pirates and marines alike, no matter what rank they possessed were awestruck by the mans last words, his last performance on the stage he was born to dominate.

The man died, still standing strong. The earth responded by standing still.

__-_ _

Crocodile did not get revenge on the old man. The Yonkou died far more honourable than he could’ve ever killed him. And- if he was being truly honest to himself- his goal had changed during the war. There was more worth fighting for than a petty grudge.  
It was the dying Yonkous speech that really got to him. The air was sizzling as Whitebeards mighty voice rolled across the battlefield like thunder. Everyone felt the shivers running down their entire body. The electrifying atmosphere caused hearts to beat faster, louder and in unison.

**«You may eradicate their bloodline, but their flame never dies...**  
**For many ages , it has been passed down through the generations…**  
**And someday, bearing the weight of all these generations, a man will appear to challenge this world...»**

Captivated by those words, the world was breathing in the dying man’s pace.

**«When somebody finds that treasure... The world will be turned upside down!!»**

No earthquake would ever shake the world more than this man’s last bits of wisdom.

**«Oh yes! It will be found! That day… will come!!!!**  
**One Piece…!»**

__

__**_It exists._**  
-  
__Old feelings surged through his body, too many too strong to push them back into the corner of his mind. Crocodile respectfully took the cigar out of his mouth, exhaling the smoke as the worlds strongest man passed away. The similarities were uncanny. If he ever thought of fate in any shape or form, he would’ve believed that it was her doing. He looked up.

_It was Loguetown all over again._

The battle resumed. With peoples spirits inspired, the war showed its true face. What had burned, burned faster. Trickles of blood grew into streams. As cruel as the war had been before, it was nothing compared to the chaotic frenzy that had exploded after the old man’s death. It was clear that the original intentions of the battle had been lost. But something new worth fighting for had taken the world by storm.

_The fight for the crown began._

And Crocodile could’ve sworn that underneath all the noise of battle and death, there was a small voice from the sea, barely audible and probably only a snippet of his imagination.

_“Dream on.”_

Crocodile took another draw from his cigar, as he readied himself to attack. _One more time it was, then._

___-_ _ _

#### A certain city on a certain Island, Grand Line

The war ended three weeks ago. The consequences that the war had brought with it had just started to show its full dimension. People, inspired by Whitebeard were heading out to sea. Ports were full of life and there was a serious shortage of ships and boats all over the world. Merchant ships, fishermen boats and even small marine cargo ships had been seized, robbed and stolen. New dreamers started chasing their desires. It certainly were wild times.

Todays headline on the “World economic News” sure were something else, though. Crocodile blinked surprised as he quickly skimmed through the article that made it on the front page. The Straw-hat brat had returned to the ruins that were Marineford and rang the Ox bell to herald the New Era. The madness of the action put aside, it didn’t really seem like an action the Straw-hat would do or come up with. Paying respects like that and all. He must be up to something.

"What do they think they’re doing…?”, he asked, wanting to hear his companions opinion, “…so soon after they almost lost their lives?”

__-_ _

Daz stood near him, stoically, arms crossed. He was quite intimidating judging by the looks and glances of the passer-by’s on the streets. He looked at his boss casually sitting on the bench, as if he wasn’t an Impel Down Level 6 escapee. In fact he didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the prospect of being chased by the Marine again. Something within the demeanour of him had changed during the war, Daz could tell. He wasn’t able to exactly pinpoint what had initiated the change, but it had definitely been for the better. His boss had somewhat regained an old fighting spirit that he hadn’t had or hadn’t shown during their time in Alabasta. Not the idiotic, hopeful naivety like all the Newcomers on the sea expressed, but old experience lit with new fire. It felt worthwhile to be with him.

“This must be a part of some larger plan…”, Daz answered unsure what to believe from the news, “That, or it is simple insanity.” Wouldn’t be too farfetched either, knowing what kind of people the Strawhat-crew contained. Especially the Swordsman.

“Do you think that’s it, Daz?” The voice of his boss brought him out of his thoughts.

Daz blinked. Since the war had ended, his boss had begun to refer to him by his real name. He didn’t know why the other decided to switch from deck name to his name but he suspected it had something to do with the change of heart he’d had during the war. He didn’t mind, though. Carefully, he said, “Straw-hat bears…a heavy scar.” He looked at his superiors face. “Do such scars fade easily?”

The implication wasn’t lost on Crocodile. His boss looked at him, eyes fiery, an almost evil grin on his face. He laughed quietly, “You’re a harsh one, Daz. Something you wanna say with this?”, Crocodile straightened his back, his voice sure and confident. “My wounds have fully healed. And as a proof of that…” He leaned back on the bench , exhaling smoke towards the sky, “I’m planning on returning. To the good old New World.” He then turned towards his subordinate, still grinning, but more relaxed now. “Will you join me?”

The confidence and determination that his boss exerted since the end of the war was infectious. Whatever was going on in the mans head - he was quite hard to figure out – was full of wits, tricks and shrewdness paired with copious amounts of experience. They might only have a business relationship, but he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t matter to him what the other was up to. Daz didn’t have to think twice about his answer.

“But of course.”

__-_ _

__With age comes wisdom, or so they say._ _

Well, Crocodile had gathered enough _wisdom_ to realize that this age wasn’t his to shine on top at. The boastful headlines, the blatantly obvious acts of youthful madness that echoed through the world were and should be the work of the bunch of lunatics everyone referred to as the ‘Worst Generation.’ He knew that most of them would jump off their high sails once they lost an arm or two in their attempts to grab everything that wasn’t nailed down. He was past that. What he couldn’t reach while striving for the top, he could now easily get by reaching rock bottom. He recalled certain names from his memory. _Time to infiltrate the Underworld._

The secret-but-not-so-secret network was constantly changing, which meant that he must be- as Doflamingo had so nicely pointed out- quite out of the loop. But he’d made his name down there once before and while the World Government was trying to hide Impel Downs Level 6 breakout, he’d been seen on the Video transmission running during the war. People knew he was out.

He’d also made sure to have a starting point to begin his own investigations with. He felt delighted when he recalled Doflamingos dumbfounded look with his inner eye. _Thanks, idiot bird._ The Warlord was secretive and smart, sure, but he couldn’t fool his own subconscious. That the other man was as entitled as he was boastful about it didn’t help his case either.

_”You don’t know how much **I** am capable of playing my cards right. Every single one of them. You know why? The one that has the ultimate trump card for this kind of game is me.”_

__Metaphors uttered in the rush of a moment often held more truth about them than intended._ _

He pulled out the secure Den Den Mushi he’d kept in one of his few secret stocks that were spread around several islands on the Grand Line. He didn’t use them for quite a while- but better late than never, right? He looked through his well hidden notes and readied himself to make a call. Morgans subordinates better answered his questions. He took a draw of his cigar while the Den Den Mushi rang quietly. He’d need a new deck name.

“Welcome to ‘The Roots’, your gardening service with branches all across the Grand Line! How may we be of service to you?”, a cheerful, female voice greeted him.

Crocodile rolled his cigar between his fingers. “Hm...I’m looking for a certain flower, quite rare to obtain. What do you have in stock?”

“Sir…our rare stocks are quite depleted. The storm from the past weeks has thrown our gardeners a pile of work. But if you’re willing to agree to a little surcharge we can surely still deliver what you’re looking for.”

“So be it.”

 _ _“__ We’ll need your name first, Sir. Are you familiar with the purchasing procedure or shall we lead you through it?”

Crocodile chuckled quietly. “No need. The name’s…”

_This was going to be exciting._

“Alright, Sir, noted. Please elaborate what kind of flower you are looking for, as well as the conditions of your garden, so our workers can prepare.”

_“The one that has the ultimate trump card for this kind of game is me. It is me. So hold your senile thoughts in, old man or I’ll end you right here, right now.” Doflamingo had laughed, asserting his superiority._

“ _Sparaxis tricolor._. Conditions are _full sun_ and _well drained-soil.”_ Crocodile looked out the window of the small bureau he was in.

The Den Den Mushi remained quiet for a moment. “…Very well. This will take a while, as this specimen is quite hard to obtain. I also must inform you that the extra charge for this one is quite high.”

“This is fine.”

“Very well. We’ll notify you when our team is ready.”

It was a gamble, a high bet. He’d invested more money than he intended to. He wasn’t worried. His right hand held the right cards to obtain what he was missing from the game.

A week later he received his bargain.

It was a giant mess containing illegal arms and weapons, scientific experiments the world wasn’t ready for, deadly chemicals, SAD and SMILEs and orphan trafficking. And pulling the strings in the middle of it all was one crazy warlord, whose deck name and double life as the king of Dressrosa shielded him from getting suspected in having his long fingers in something so big.

_So Joker, then._

Crocodile glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall next to the window. It had barely been a month since Marineford and he was already back in the loop.

__-_ _

#### Somewhere in the New World

The news of Dressrosa’s dethroning of King Doflamingo threw the world’s balance off the delicate stakes it sat upon. A fundamental piece of the game had been removed and the house of cards built upon it came crashing down. The horrid images of a wrecked Kingdom where only the tip of the Iceberg. Doflamingos defeat created a giant black hole in the Underworld. Disaster knew no bounds and due to chaos and loss of control, many parts and people of various illegal businesses and organizations were exposed to the surface. The one gaping void Doflamingo had left behind was destroying everything else that had been established rapidly. It had only been a little more than two years after Marineford. Everyone, that was even slightly involved in world politics and/or illegal businesses was clearly aware where this breakdown would ultimately lead to. Another war, possibly in a scale a magnitude larger than the one at Marine Headquarters.

Crocodile had found the irony of the news quite astounding. He had received the news when he was travelling on boat having to sort out some deals he was making in the New World. Small deals, but deals nonetheless.

He lit a new cigar before taking his precious time to read the article as slowly as possible, soaking in every detail about the flamingos defeat. It felt like beautiful justice, _Karma_ even, if he believed in that. The blond warlord had reached the goal that Crocodile had aspired to reach as well, only to have the throne taken from him by the _one and only Straw-hat himself._ On top of that, Morgans had brilliantly placed a picture of the beaten up warlord on the front page and he looked like _shit._

The older man laughed quietly, amused. He would show Daz, if he was here, just to see the other man’s reaction, however his partner in crime had to keep check on some other things he was in charge of. It were busy days. And they were about to become more hectic.

For all the panic that broke out in the Underworld the following days, Crocodile himself wasn’t really concerned about the things he had his fingers in. The moves he made were small and unsuspecting, but steady and sure. The mistakes he used to make were not even thoughtworthy as of today. He had wisely held back and laid low the past two years, knowing that the madness Doflamingo was webbing around him were the threads that would ultimately choke him silent. The younger man clearly had gambled around too much and had slowly started to lose control because he’d underestimated the strength of the people bearing a grudge against him. This, and he’d clearly underestimated the wildcard that were the Strawhats. He’d been right in the end too, as the news he read a few days ago proved to him. He even kept that issue of the paper in one of his bureaus. It had a special place in his heart.

While some were scrambling to get themselves and their traces out of the Underworld fast, others jumped to the opportunity, smelling the meat, the gold, the money. The markets were quickly changing, with some of the names only being on the list for a few hours before disappearing again or being announced dead already _ _.__

One institution that quickly gained a positive reputation was, much to the brokers surprise, _Buggy’s Delivery._ He hadn’t even thought about the man taking over something so risky while using his status as a Warlord of the sea to let the Marine leave him be. He honestly didn’t expect the clown-man to have the brains to pull this off, just from his experiences with him during their Impel Down breakout. Then again, the guy had been part of Roger’s crew despite being younger than him and had connections to Red Hair. It was, as ridiculous it might sound, probably best not to underestimate him. He had dangerous charisma and a really suspicious amount of dumb luck.

Well, that being said, Crocodile knew that he had his fair share of charisma as well as he’d amassed a small amount of highly skilled networkers around him, that blindly obeyed his orders. And he’d used the past two years to prepare, waiting patiently for his opportunity, luring his prey into false security before hunting it down. _Because that’s what crocodiles do._

And now, the time had come. He dialled a number into his Den Den Mushi to inform his subordinates about their next move. Now, after waiting so long, was the time to go after Doflamingos victims and he was _hungry._

__-_ _

#### Impel Down

Impel Downs Eternal Hell was quieter than ever. The largest prison breakout up to date from two years ago at Marineford had left its marks even here, down in Level 6. A lot of small and big fish had fought their way out of hells different stages and with just the right people and the right amount of pure utter madness carried by those people, managed to see daylight once again. Just to be swallowed whole by seakings lurking around the prison building, courtesy of the Calm Belt. However next to swarms of small stir fry that made it out, this prison break included the largest release of bloodhungry sharks back into their native sea. And those sharks were territorial. Once they reached their habitat, the open sea, once more the seakings scattered to avoid being devoured by the raw extortion of greed, power and bloodlust coming from starved deep sea creatures. Another era had begun and Marineford had just been their first target.

Impel Downs longest inhabited cells were glaringly empty and the danger emitting aura that constantly crept through the walls of the floor was no more than a slight tremor of unease when one entered the floor. In a way, the guards and wardens of Impel Down were much more competent because of the lacking menace. It was harder to do your job properly when a few feet next to you some gruesome monster breathed the same air as you. But now, that the big threats were out and unleashing their monstrous desires somewhere else, it was somewhat _peaceful._ As peaceful as it could possibly get in a place referred to as ‘actual hell’.

Impel Downs postman was granted access to enter. There were another set papers he had to deliver, the very few ones that reached Level 6. Although his time there was by no doubt the shortest and the atmosphere had considerably calmed down by a lot, he still was not comfortable at all going down there so murderers sentenced to death could read about other murderers sentenced to death. It reminded him of the way fighting fish lived, the stronger ones devouring the weaker ones no matter how similar or how close to one another they were. The postman shuddered in disgust. He hated pirates.

Upon him entering light shuffling and rustling noises were to be heard. Metallic clinking noises of Seastone shackles and chains being dragged around the floor. Breathing sounds. The Postman closed his eyes. The faster he did this, the less time and problems he could prevent. Most of the inmates did not care about him. They only wanted the news and to laugh at the ‘pathetic world’ outside. If it were only them, the entire endeavour wouldn’t be a problem at all. His main concern was the newest prisoner, a megalodon amongst sharks and an unpredictable maniac at that. Freshly captured and brought in from the New World Grandline Seas was the one former Warlord he really could’ve lived sans ever meeting him

-

Donquixote Doflamingo relaxedly leaned against the wall in his cell. The shackles were quite uncomfortable but he’d rather go to hell a second time before admitting that to anyone. He was amusing himself after all. What else could he possibly do after everything had just gone to shit? Exactly. And that was why everything here was just utterly hilarious.

His fingers twitched anxiously and expectantly. The best part of the day was him getting his beloved news. If he hated one thing about being locked down here in Impel Down it was that he felt a little left out, like the kid that no one wanted to hang out with on the playground. But other than that he was always buzzing with excitement whenever he could scramble through the pages of the _Morgans’ Big News_. It was fantastic. Seeing the World Governments locked doors ripped violently out of their frames, kicked and punched through by those worst generation fledglings. Not that he cared for these kids anyways, sooner or later they’d all lose a limb or two. They were mere _Amateurs_. Granted, amateurs with a surprising amount of guts, an unhealthy amount of madness, an illegal amount of sheer stupidity and stubbornness and probably all of the seas pure luck. But all of this wouldn’t be nearly enough to kick down all the big veterans of the New World. Luck would never outclass experience in the grand scheme of things. And that was why all the grandiose news about those newly hatched, angry kids were merrier than nearly everything else. He couldn’t wait for their downfall from glory into the gutter. He shuffled his feet around, fingers still twitching and grin on his face growing wider. What a shitshow the world was running! And he probably had the safest VIP seat to the world’s most outrageous stage drama in the history of all things.

«Oi, Paper-boy!», he called out before he could see him, « C’mon hurry up, will ya? Can’t wait to see what’s hit the front page today, fufu..»

-

The blond man’s amusement could be heard through his almost playful seeming voice. The postman flinched. He hadn’t even been near the damn Warlords cell and he’d heard him! He immediately started sweating a little. The guy was really not a thing to look forward to. He quickly threw the other Papers into their respective cells and hurried to Impel downs last cell in the highest security hallway. Another patrolling guard that had also heard Doflamingo call for him shot him a pitied look. Yeah, no one really wanted to be in his position right now. Especially since the past few days. The Flamingo-man had become especially twitchy and behaved rather erratically and it was no farfetched conclusion to assume that the guy was going full mad.

Suddenly, the loud noise of the prison bars being kicked boomed like an explosion through the hallway. Immediately the other prisoners started rustling and murmuring as well and the postman had to really press his fingernails into his palms to prevent him from flinching again. Better not to show any kind of fear or weakness down here.

« Oooi ! What’cha taking so long for?», the former Warlord called out again. While still playful in his intonations, he was getting impatient. The postman could clearly hear the manic undertones of his voice becoming more prominent. He swallowed. He needed his voice under control here.

« Coming ! »

He hurried along the other empty cells, rolling the paper to a pipe so that he could easily throw it into the cell without getting to close.

He however should have payed better attention to what the prisoner was doing as he didn’t dare to look to closely into the dimly lit cell.

« Your daily news, Dofl- AGH !? » He shrieked when a large lanky hand shot through the bars as best as it could and grabbed his wrist. The postman froze in an instant. Hot and cold tremors of panic shot through his body and adrenaline made him hear his own blood thumping through his ears. «Fufufufufu!» The cackling made his hair stand up. A pair of pointy, red-lens glasses shimmered behind the bars as well as a broad but not benevolent smile. « You sure took your damn time, Paper-boy. Come on, stay here with me while we’re reading the news! It’s more fun to do so when there’s two of us, fufufufu! Now hurry up and show me the front page!»

Although he really should have resisted, the postman didn’t even think twice to obey. The guy was unpredictable and scary as hell and, damn he’d never noticed because he’d always sat close to the wall but he was also freakishly tall. And strong. He had the ultimate iron grip on his wrist and – _weren’t this supposed to be sea stone shackles?_

All he could do now was standing still and obey and pray that he would get out of this unharmed- physically and psychologically.

-

Doflamingo grinned as let his eyes wander over the front page of the newspaper. The past few days, shortly after the Reverie, the news had been glorious. He’d had quite a hard time to pinpoint his favourite headline, but in the end he’d settled with the abolishment of the warlord system. Mainly because the decision by the council was completely _his fault_ , after all the things he’d done. It was great to know that, even while locked up in Impel Down, he influenced the decisions of the government and therefore was still shaping the events on the surface. He was well aware what kind of hole his arrest had created and he knew that the chaos that ensued was not to be controlled by anyone.

So why was the headline on the paper saying **UNDERWORLD IN MOTION- FIRST SUCCESSFUL PARTIAL TAKEOVERS OF DONQUIXOTE NETWORK BY NEW ANONYMOUS BROKERS.**?

The blond man pulled the paper closer towards him, quickly skimming through the lines to make sure the headlines were just a stupid exaggeration of that dumb news-bird Morgans.

_…mysterious, new organization shot out of seemingly nowhere and is moving quickly and organized to pick up the pieces left behind by criminal Donquixote Doflamingo also previously known as the ‘Joker’ of the underground..._

_…reuptake of previous markets, especially ones that were abandoned or taken care of by the World Government…hidden niches expanded and reformed…_

The former warlord frowned nervously. Those weren’t exaggerations. This was serious.

_…name of Organization unknown, but a few of the brokers deck names have made their presence…_

_…rumours of new factories, production goods remaining unknown as well…involving dangerous chemical substances…_

He was getting really anxious now. Who and how the fuck did anyone get his secret information about the SAD and SMILEs? No one should be able to reuptake production, he’d made absolutely sure the facilities were completely useless. And Kaidou -shit, if the Yonkou got his shipments of SMILEs again, his crew wouldn’t come and bail him out of prison. He knew that they wanted to kill him too after they got the information they wanted, but now? He would become both useless for Kaidou and the World Government. Which meant…

He clenched his teeth, getting more and more aggravated.  
Who’d had the authority and power to take control over the hole he’d created? During his days, there was no one that had dared to mess with his affiliations!

_…’Roulette’, ‘Slot’, ‘Coin’ and ‘Chip’ are the most prominent new names…seem all to work united…following the lead of another criminal mastermind, while…hidden behind the pseudonym ‘Dice’._

Dice? Who the hell was that?

Doflamingo frowned furiously and quickly went through all the Underworld contacts he’d had to narrow down who this turncoat could possibly be. No one of the Emperors of the Underworld for sure. They had relied on him as well. He hadn’t had much contact with two of Big Moms most famous brokers too. They’d had different goals. The smaller fish hadn’t nearly been competent enough to pull a stunt like this. So, who had it been then?

He was racking his brain on the news, gears turning in his head, but to no avail. Had it been Law? That wasn’t impossible based on the amount of knowledge the young captain had…but it couldn’t be, since Law had wanted to stop the entirety of his trades anyways. Also ‘Dice’? No one had been assigned that name when he still had been active. It couldn’t just be some nameless nobody. The market was extremely hard to control under normal conditions and people without experience in those fields learned for _years_ to get a grasp of the basic functions. _So who then?_  
-  
Oh.

He suddenly remembered…something.

-

#### Mariejois, eleven years ago.

Blackmail successful. Doflamingo, age 31, grinned wildly, as he entered the waiting room at Mariejois for the first time. The Warlord invitation letter was stuffed in the pocket of his pants, probably crumpled.

It was his first meeting as one of the Seven Warlords of the sea and though meetings were usually not his thing and he could’ve straight up ignored the government call, he saw fit in presenting himself to the other warlords at least once. They should know who just had joined their ranks.

There were two people -more like creatures, really- already waiting and sitting on the oversized, velvety couch while drinking the luxurious beverages provided by the government. Bartholomew Kuma was quietly and devoutly reading his Bible, not even looking up when he entered. The other member, Gecko Moria, played around with his glass of wine while stretching out way more on the couch than necessary. He seemed bored. As a little research had provided, he knew that Kuma was part of the organization for years now. Moria on the other hand, had joined last year, having received an invite from the World Government after returning from the New World. He had even gotten a staggering bounty of 320 million Beri. Doflamingo mustered his ‘ally’. He didn’t look that strong.

Doflamingo stalked into the room with his trademark walk - just for the sake of being obnoxious- and planted himself and his large, puffy feather coat on the couch opposite to Moria. The pale man looked up, noting Doflamingos presence with a sharp-toothed smile, matching his own. “You..!”, he said with his grating voice, “You’re the newbie?”

“Seems so.”, Doflamingo grinned back before slamming his feet onto the table.

-

“The ‘Pirate Empress’ Boa Hancock won’t show up, sir!”, a voice reported through a Den Den Mushi to the Gorosei and the Fleet Admiral, as everyone got up to enter the meeting and dining hall. Sengoku sighed. “Was to be expected.” The organization was a barely functional mess anyways.

Doflamingo knew that it was really surprising how many had actually bothered to show up. Probably due to the fact that the Warlords has two new members joining their ranks. One of them was Jinbe, by invitation of the World Government in an attempt to better Human-Fishman-Relations. While slavery and racism towards fishmen and merfolk was only slowly getting better, the cooperation between Jinbe and the World Government should at least appear to be a genuine effort to better things. As for the other new member, himself -that had been _self-_ invitation after kidnapping the cargo ships loaded with Heavenly Tribute for the Celestial Dragons. They didn’t really have a choice other than letting him in. And while the government disliked having to let him join, he could only applaud himself for his actions.

Next to Kuma and Moria, Mihawk had also showed up. He’d been sparse with words as always, giving him and Jinbe nothing more but a court nod, before taking his seat at the table. Doflamingo was sure that the only reason _he_ had showed up was the expensive wine the World Government served during their meetings.

They had all taken their seats on the table, ready to start, when the gate was opened one more time and the last missing Warlord made a dramatic entry by being fashionably late.

“Crocodile!”, Sengoku said, visible surprise on his face, “You’re late.” Said man walked slowly towards the last free seat, facing Doflamingo. After taking his place, he puffed smoke across the table before he acknowledged Sengoku addressing him with a flick of his cigar.

The blond man lifted his eyebrow. Now this guy was acting entitled. He vaguely knew Crocodile from before, during their time as active pirates. They had crossed paths here and there, never leading anywhere though. They had had their own goals to work towards. He however had also joined the warlords nearly twenty years ago, which made him an old-timer amongst the Warlords. It explained his attitude. Or he was just _really_ full of himself.

Crocodile noticed him staring and turned his attentions towards him. “What?”, he said with a deep voice, sounding bored. His heavy lidded eyes further accentuated that he only showed up for the special occasion. Yeah, he was just full of himself.

«What a pissed attitude you have!», the younger warlord started laughing. «Are you always like this or did someone shit into your coffee?»

Before Crocodile had a chance to return the insult, Sengoku spoke up and declared that the meeting had officially started. The older man shot Doflamingo a dirty look across the table.

-

The first half of the meeting was over and had been going well so far. After introductions of the new members and a discussion about some territorial pirates terrorizing villages in the West Blue, an hour long break had been announced. Mihawk had left shortly after, but not before downing two additional glasses of red wine. Sengoku, Great Staff Tsuru and the Gorosei had left to discuss between themselves how the meeting would continue.

Kuma and Jinbe, being the most loyal government dogs (or fish in Jinbe’s case) waited for the break to be over, quietly talking near the window. Moria seemed to stay out of sheer boredom. The gigantic man leaned back on his seat, closing his eyes. And Crocodile was standing near one of the display cabinets on the other side of the room, studying their contents while smoking. Doflamingo decided that he was the most interesting target to rile up.

The older warlord didn’t seem to notice him approaching – this, or he just was straight up ignoring his presence. The blonde man towered over the older warlord easily thanks to his height and chuckled into his ear.  
“Hey, old man. And what could have possibly piqued your interest, hm?”

The other just shot him a glare.”…Doflamingo.”, he said slowly, voice deep due to all the years of smoking, “Stop bothering me. Go annoy someone else.”

“Mean, Croco- man. Share your interest with me. See it as a little bonding between allies, yeah?”

Crocodile took another draw of his cigar. “This is not an alliance.”, he simply said, before returning his attention to the display case. Doflamingo grinned.

_Playing hard to get through, are we? Well, the joke’s on you. Playing games is my thing._

He put his attention towards the display case that Crocodile had been studying so intently. It was a collection of luxurious, old boards for strategy games decorated with gems and framed with gold. The carved gaming pieces resembled Marine monuments in miniature form, in every way as detailed as the originals. These had been used by the previous generations of the Gorosei until they were worn out as the polished surface of the figurines suggested. Now they served as eye candy to boast about their wealth and intellect.

“I didn’t think of you as a man that has much interest in shallow treasure, old man.”, the blond said while thinking about robbing the display case after the meeting was over. Just for the sake of it. “You act too aloof to be interested in sparkling stones.”

“And who told you that I care for the gold in there?” The dark haired Warlord suddenly smirked slightly. _“Whippersnapper.”_

‘Oh’?, Doflamingo thought, excited, ‘Biting back?’ “Ahh, so you’re into the art of playing games?”

“If you want to put it that way, then yes I am.”

“Fascinating, Croco-man. Sadly, the uncultured Gorosei clearly forgot about the superior way of playing games, though.”, he said after looking at every item in the cabinet.

“And that would be?”

The blond turned towards the other, grinning: “Nothing beats a good old game of cards. Playing cards _right_ is a very hard thing to do. It’s so secretive. Your hand against the others. No one knows what you’re capable of unleashing onto the others. Are your cards part of the game or not? Who knows. No one can see your cards anyway. It really is the peak of playing, no?”

Crocodile looked at him, then turned his head back towards the display case, expression neutral.

“I disagree.”, he said.

“So what kind of game is worth your sublime presence then?” He couldn’t help it. He was genuinely curious.

“This.”, the older man said while pointing into a corner of the cabinet. Doflamingo followed his finger until his eyes fell on a small, beautifully decorated beaker toppled over, with shiny dice appearing to tumble out of it.  
The taller man frowned a little. He hadn’t expected something so _simple._

“A game of luck? That’s no fun, Croco-man. You can’t take things into your own hands if all you do is throwing dice.”

“You can’t do that most of the time anyways. Taking things into your own hands. This right here is all about how you work with what you get.”

“So you dislike planning ahead? Could cost you your victory you know.”

“Again, that’s not what I said.” Crocodile patiently took another draw of his cigar. “But I like thinking on my feet. Unforeseen circumstances are a thing too. It’s good to know you can still win against all odds.”

“You can do the same thing with cards.”

“Well, you said it yourself before. _No one knows what you are capable of unleashing onto the others. Are your cards part of the game or not? Who knows. No one can see your cards anyway._ ”, he quoted the younger warlord.

Doflamingo cocked his head to the side. He felt like he was loosing the argument and he didn’t like it. “So, what about that?”

“You talk about manipulating the game to your favour. Which, sure, will probably make victory more likely. But you’re forgetting that there are other players in the game. They are capable of doing the same move you had in mind and in the end, you don’t know what game you’re playing anymore.” Then the older man added, “Unless you’re playing Solitaire. Which is ultimately based on luck as well.”

“So tell me then, how is a game completely based on luck more entertaining? If card games are really the way you described them- _which they are not_ \- then you just need to _manipulate_ the game better than others.”

“True. However, manipulation is and always will be an alteration of rules. You didn’t win the game fully.”

“Are you accusing me of cheating? As if you would play every game by its intended rules, you sneaky lizard.”

“I never stated my _opinion_ on cheating. In fact, I do not have anything against rule alterations myself. You, however, are putting too much faith into tweaking the outcome of the game.”

“Once you’ve won, you’ve won.”, Doflamingo stubbornly disagreed, “No second thoughts about the course of the game as long the end is in your favour.”

“And what if someone finds your tweaked cards? A manipulated game always leaves traces, suspicions. You didn’t win the game fully”

“The higher chance of victory is worth a little suspicion. But this?” , the blond man pointed to the dice, “Is just unpredictable if the dices are not loaded. Winning is a gamble with those.”

“It is. But it is a gamble for everyone involved, since everyone has to play with the same dice. Working with what you’re given sorts the good from the best. And although I agree that a loss is more likely to happen and the wait for a good roll can be frustrating, winning a game provides you with the ultimate sense of victory. At least in my view.”

“Oh? So what is your _ultimate sense of victory_ then?”

“No foreseeability, no retraceability.”

“…”

Doflamingo was silent. He had no clever retort to that and it bugged him a lot. No way he’d lose this argument to a foul-mouthed lizard. He’d just need a moment to come up with a cocky response. But before anything could come to his mind, Sengoku and the Gorosei re-entered the hall to announce that the break was over. Crocodile turned around with a swift motion, returning to his seat at the table. He lost.

“Huh. Whatever.”

He didn’t let his signature grin falter but couldn’t quite hide his annoyance anymore. Then he stalked back to his seat. _What an irritating guy._

He could appreciate the coat, though.

  
-

It took three months for the cleaning service to notice that a small, decorated beaker and six golden dice had gone missing from the display cabinet.

-

#### Impel Down, Present

_Oh._

His remaining grin fell straight off his face when he realized.

“You cold blooded son of a bitch.”

-

The postman froze at the former Warlords sudden change of behaviour. If he seemed angry before it was nothing in comparison to the ice cold rage running through his voice. The employee wasn’t so sure if he could get away from this alive anymore.

-

There was absolutely no proof that it really was _him_ but he knew. He knew. It couldn’t be anyone else. He was ruining everything Doflamingo had built up with lots of blood and sweat and not a single tear and as the only person who knew who was behind his pseudonym he couldn’t do anything about it because he was locked down in Eternal Hell. Chances of anyone listening to him without proof were just about below zero.

How dare this irritating bastard just take over _his_ business? The fucking lizard must’ve gone full senile now, going around tampering on Yonkous playgrounds. But what angered him the most was that the other man had been right all along – he never would have seen this coming. He was the last person he’d expected to do anything with his dark businesses just because it was momentarily straight up suicidal to be connected with him in any way because of the uproar he’d caused with his defeat in Dressrosa. And the fact that he never would have predicted this turn of events was _pissing him off_. His entire life would become useless to the World Government and to Kaidou and his execution date would be announced shortly. He angrily stared a the new brokers deck name. He could feel the mockery through the printed letters. Rage rushed through his head.

A cracking noise and a loud yelp brought him to reality. The Paper-boy whimpered in pain. Doflamingo looked at the boys wrist that he still held in an iron grip. It was limp. He’d crushed his wrist out of pure anger and he hadn’t noticed. He let go. _There was nothing to hold onto anyways._

The Impel Down employee quickly go on his feet and bolted away from the cell as fast as the pain in his wrist allowed him to. The he darted down the hallway. That one surely wasn’t coming back. Which was probably for the best. He needed to blow off some steam.

-

For a few hours, Impel Down Level 6 was as noisy as it had been before the outbreak two years before. A cell was in dire need of reparation.

-

He’d cooled down a little. Enough to let the other wardens leave him be once again. He knew that just being continuously mad wouldn’t help his case either. No matter how he acted right now, it didn’t change the fact that he was pretty much _fucked_. So he did what he did best when confronted with precarious situations. He laughed them away.  
He looked up while a large grin spread on his face.

_Well played, you damn reptile. Well played._

_**fin.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this got WAY out of hand. I intended another 2000 words. Hooray?
> 
> Also, Doflamingo and Crocodile totally had a rivalry going on during their pirate/ warlord time.
> 
> No? Don’t believe me? You fool. You absolute buffoon. 
> 
> Of course they did. They’re way too similar to each other. They are competitive as shit and ready to walk across corpses. They have the cape, they want the crown. If Oda doesn’t debunk it, I will firmly hold my belief that both of them share the same tattoo on their thighs that’s just ‘cinematic parallels’ in shitty comic sans, point 32. I do NOT accept constructive criticism on this headcanon. 
> 
> Otherwise feel free to do so! I’m really happy about every type of feedback I receive!  
> English is not my first language so if you find grammatical abominations, feel free to point them out!  
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading! It means A LOT to me!
> 
>  _Sparaxis tricolor_ also known as _Harlequin Flower_


End file.
